


i will not give up on you

by gotham_ruaidh



Series: Gotham Writes for Imagine Claire & Jamie [54]
Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 01:36:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7413322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gotham_ruaidh/pseuds/gotham_ruaidh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This takes place in the camp after departing for Inverness in 02x11 “Vengeance is Mine,” the night before the Redcoats attacked and set in motion the chain of events that concluded with Jamie and Claire in the Duke’s kitchen…</p>
            </blockquote>





	i will not give up on you

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted at [Imagine Claire & Jamie](http://imagineclaireandjamie.tumblr.com/post/146310709878/i-will-not-give-up-on-you) on tumblr

Claire shifted on her knees as she re-folded the blankets that were the only cushion she and Jamie had atop the frozen ground. Now-familiar sounds of the men settling themselves in for the night filtered through the thin canvas of the tent, and she squinted in the dim light cast by the single candle beside the bedroll.

Only she knew how dispirited Jamie had felt since receiving the orders the previous week to return to Inverness. He had tried so hard to convince those idiotic generals and that pompous quartermaster that they needed to press on - to take London. He hadn’t said a word about it to her - hadn’t let on to his men just how much his heart ached - but she knew.

Every night now, when he thought her asleep, he whispered soft Gaelic words as he held her. Slipping in long past dark and slipping out before dawn with a kiss to her forehead and a few languid words in her ear. Drilling the men as they marched. Discussing the plan of action with Dougal and Murtagh, again and again.

He hadn’t touched her since their final night just over the border - their final night in a real bed.

Her body craved his touch. Her brain craved his words. Her heart mourned the pain he held so deeply within himself.

So tonight, after tending to a few minor injuries, Claire had retired to her tent a bit early. She’d gone out of her way to bring a small bowl of water with her and, dipping the cleanest corner of her apron into the bowl, she’d carefully wiped the grime and dried sweat from her face.

Then she’d undone her fichu to dab at her neck. And then she’d shrugged out of her stays, propped them up in the far corner, and sighed in relief as she washed between her breasts.

She hadn’t removed her dress in days - and with the cool night air seeping from under the tent flap, she’d have to wear it again tonight as well. But she wanted to do whatever she could to care for herself, relax a bit.

And make herself a bit nicer for Jamie.

So after readjusting the bedroll yet again, neatly lining up her mud-spattered boots near the tent flap, and carefully bringing the single candle right to her elbow, she began unpinning her hair. Waiting for Jamie.

She had just finished finger-combing her curls, facing the side of the tent, when she felt a rush of cool air. She turned, smiling as Jamie crawled through the tent flap and sprawled, face-down, on the bedroll beside her.

Claire lay a gentle hand on the back of his neck, pushing his curls away from his collar to cool him.

“Long day?”

She watched his back rise up and down in a sigh, and then he wrapped one long, possessive arm around her hips.

His voice rumbled against the bedroll.

“You’ll have to try again,” she said softly, kneading the tense muscles at the base of his neck. “I can’t even tell what language you’re speaking.”

So he turned to face her, blue eyes almost dark in the candlelight.

“No more worries than the usual, Sassenach. I caught two of the men gambling. Under normal circumstances I’d figure out some sort of punishment, but now…”

“Ssshh. Just be still for a while.”

He edged over so that he lay with his head in her lap, gazing adoringly up at her face. She traced the line of his nose, the strong, stubbled curve of his jaw, the hollows of his eyes.

“I made my normal rounds this evening - reminding the Lallybroch men yet again to remove their boots at least once a day to let their poor toes breathe.”

“Did ye, now? I canna imagine they wanted to hear that.” The thumb of his right hand slowly traced the arch of her shin, pushing up the fabric of her dress as it explored.

“Well, they all complied - but Rupert gave me a bit of a hard time. He said, ’"I dinna ken how the toes breathe - but I’m sure that the wee things living in my toes *do* need to breathe every once in a while.’”

Jamie finally smiled - and her heart soared to see it.

“It’s good for him to make jokes again. He hasna quite been himself since - ”

“Sshh.” Claire lay a finger on Jamie’s lips. “None of that. Right now it’s just you and me.”

His eyes narrowed - pupils huge and dilated.

“Lay down, Sassenach,” he whispered, voice thick.

She slowly lay back to rest on her elbows, watching him rise to a sitting position and unbutton his waistcoat, eyes locked on hers the whole time.

“God, you are so beautiful,” he breathed.

He neatly folded the waistcoat, lay it atop her boots, and crawled to lay atop her, rucking up her skirts and then the front of his kilt.

“Come to me, Jamie. Just be with me, here. Now.”

He lowered his head and their mouths met in a long, slow kiss. She felt the heat of him - and his hands settled at her waist, anchoring her.

So close.

And then - sudden coolness between her legs as Jamie crumpled to her side, body suddenly full of such tension that his skin felt like a kettle just about to explode.

“Jamie?” Claire’s heart leapt to her throat. “Jamie, love - what is it? What happened?”

He curled against her, forehead so hot against her neck as he gripped her so hard she knew she would have bruises on her arms.

“I’m so, so sorry, *a graidh*. So sorry.”

Now she was thoroughly confused. “Jamie? What on earth are you talking about?”

One hand lowered to rest at the curve of her waist. “Ye are so thin, *mo nighean donn*. Ye have lost a stone at least since we left Lallybroch.”

“I’m doing a lot more walking, and the food is terrible. It’s to be expected.” Gently she ran her hands up and down his back, his shirt suddenly damp with sweat.

“Ye’re not eating as ye should. And there are dark circles under yer eyes because ye canna sleep so well on the hard ground. And there are no other women here wi’ the men.”

He drew in a deep breath, bracing himself. “I have taken ye from being lady of an estate, living in a warm home, to camping in the woods in the middle of winter, doctoring the men at all hours of the night. I have brought ye wi’ me into a dangerous life. I’m an outlaw again. If I’m captured I’ll likely be hanged. I am leading brave men to slaughter, Claire. And I’ve dragged ye into it.”

“You did no such thing.” Her voice was calm, but firm. Needing to convince him.

“Aye, I did,” he retorted, pulling back to meet her eyes. Sadness, regret - grief - etched lines around his eyes that had not been there several months back. “I have taken ye from yer home. I have led ye to an outlaw life. I canna care for ye in the way ye deserve, Claire. Do ye not see how it’s killing me?”

She waited a while before responding - silently tracing the arch of his eyebrows, tucking loose, damp curls behind his hears.

“I am here of my own free will, Jamie. How many times do I need to prove that to you?”

“But - ”

“No buts.” She was using her Nurse Beauchamp voice now - it was the last recourse she had. “I am not here for myself. I am here for you. To support you, to give you strength when you cannot find it within yourself. I *chose* you, Jamie - and everything that comes along with it.”

His eyes closed, pained. “This is no life for ye, Claire, and ye ken that well.”

She shook her head, heart aching. “You know I grew up sleeping rough. And my life - my place - is with you. As yours is with mine.” She paused, admiring the way that the candlelight cast shadows on his face. “And don’t tell me you think I’d be content sitting at home when you’re out here.”

Now he shook his head. “No. I canna say that. But Claire - ”

“No, Jamie. I’m here. I will *always* be here, where you are.”

“But what if I canna keep ye safe, Claire?” Tears slid down his cheeks, his eyes still tightly shut. Blocking out the world.

“Open your eyes, please?”

He did - and she bent to kiss away his tears.

“You keep me safe by being with me. Do you remember what I told you - that bad things always happen when we’re apart?”

Too tired for words, he nodded.

“So - we’re together. Therefore, no bad things can happen to us.”

He sighed.

“So - if you’re quite finished - where were we?”

She shifted again to lay on her back, pulling him atop her. But this time she pushed up his kilt, found him, tugged him to life, and gently, gently eased him inside.

At this contact his eyes opened - transfixed on hers.

“I love you. I dinna deserve you.”

He braced his hands beside her shoulders. She wrapped her legs around his hips and gripped his arse hard, pushing him even deeper.

“I love you too, you fool,” she gasped. “Now make me forget everything else besides you.”

The light returned to his eyes, and his small half-smile was everything.


End file.
